Schuester's Animal Centre
by MattyBelkin
Summary: Santana is forced into volunteering at a local animal re-homing sanctuary in New York by her roommate Rachel. She soon finds out that it may not be as bad as first thought when she meets the beautiful Brittany Pierce, another volunteer. Brittana. AU.
1. Chapter 1

Diclaimer: Do not own Glee.

A/N - This is just a little idea that popped into my mind whilst waiting for the long summer break to be over and the start of season 3. No idea where I'm going with it but I hope you like it. Rated T (subject to possible change) for bad language and some adult themes.

Thanks.

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><p>"Santana?"<p>

The hairs on the back of Santana's neck stood up on end as a familiar call echoed through the apartment followed by the slamming of the front door.

She exhaled slowly and nonchalantly licked the tip of her middle finger before flipping the page of the trashy magazine she was reading. The kind of magazine that takes the most unflattering pictures of celebrities and then highlights their cellulite with fluorescent yellow circles and then points to aforementioned circles with huge, pink arrows. Just in case you missed it.

"Santana?"

Footsteps could be heard clomping down the corridor towards where the Latina was currently situated on the ramshackle couch in the small living room. Over the top of the glossy pages of her magazine Santana could see movement in front of her.

"Santana?"

In a well practised motion, Santana rolled her eyes before slowly raising them. She was met with a pair of legs clad in knee high socks and an obscenely short plaid skirt. Rising even higher, she travelled over a hideous sweater decorated with various woollen bobbles and up to the nervous face of her roommate, who was chewing her bottom lip lightly under Santana's discerning glare.

"What is it Berry?"

Santana Lopez had answered Rachel Berry's advertisement for a roommate almost six months ago. Not a day had gone by where at some point in those twenty four hours she really wished she hadn't. It may have been the only place she could afford due to the fact that she was only required to pay a third of the rent and her other option had been a fold down bed in her best friend's older sister's dingy garage but sometimes she wondered whether meeting Rachel Berry had destroyed what was left of her sanity.

Rachel wasn't exactly the easiest person to live with. The girl was short, ridiculously ambitious and had the most unfortunate dress sense. Three traits that Santana just so happened to find extremely annoying.

Not to mention she also had the tendency to get up at six in the morning to practice her vocal exercises and forced Santana to eat strange vegan foods which often looked and tasted a little like cat vomit.

"Rachel." Santana spoke harshly, jolting the girl out of her nervous reverie. "What the hell do you want? Can't you see that I'm busy?"

"Sorry Santana." Rachel apologised. "But I wanted to consult with you about something."

"Go on then." Santana waved her hand dismissively. "Spit it out hobbit!"

"Well, you know that I have been volunteering at that animal sanctuary for approximately two months and five days now..."

Santana rolled her eyes. Yes, she bloody well knew all about the damned animal sanctuary Rachel had been working at for two months and five days. The girl had been banging on and on about how great it was that she was able to fit in voluntary work around her busy school schedule. Rachel was currently a student at Juilliard in preparation for becoming the biggest Broadway star to ever grace the face of the earth. Or so she said.

"Yes Rachel. I know about _sac_." Santana chuckled at the centre's dreadful acronym.

"Please Santana; I thought I told you not to call it that. It's Schuester's Animal Centre."

"Yeah." The Latina shrugged. "S-A-C. _Sac_."

It was Rachel's turn to roll her eyes at the belligerent girl in front of her as she shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. She and Santana had never really seen eye to eye ever since they first met but Rachel had needed a roommate to make up the extra rent and utilities money that she needed to prove to her fathers' that she was independent enough to live away from home. They themselves had been keen on her staying at home until she finished her time at Juilliard but Rachel thought it far more pertinent to experience the world through the eyes of a normal university student rather than a budding Broadway star.

The drawback of this however was the fact that whilst her fathers had never objected to her early morning workout routine and vocal exercises, Santana Lopez did not approve. In fact, her level of disapproval was such that she had threatened to throw Rachel's bedazzled hairbrush out of the window on several separate occasions.

"Well..." Rachel continued with a small stutter, unsure of how the feisty Latina would react to her request. "We've recently had rather a bad shortage of volunteers. Mr. Figgins' wife, who was the volunteers' coordinator, has retired so we aren't getting as many in. And the man that used to work in the cafe with me, Mr. Kidney, was fired."

"For what?" Santana cocked a perfectly plucked eyebrow, choosing to focus on this rather than the impending sense of doom that was blossoming in the pit of her stomach brought about by Rachel's line of questioning.

"Something about a teapot full of vodka." Rachel furrowed her eyebrows in disapproving belief. "There was always something very suspicious about him. He kind of reminded me of a man I met in New York the first time I visited. He tried to charge me for theatre tickets by swiping my credit card through his butt crack."

Santana's other eyebrow rose as she snorted with laughter.

"Okay Berry. Spit it out for reals this time. What do you really want? And make it fast because I wants to get my trashy magazine time on."

"You know Santana, speaking like that really doesn't do you any favours. I, for one, know that you are a very intelligent, well-educated and articulate young woman and by -."

"Rachel!"

Rachel sighed and took a seat beside the Latina on the old grey couch, laying a hand on the brunette's forearm, which was promptly removed as Santana edged away from the shorter girl until she was pressed uncomfortably into the armrest.

"You can look Berry, but do. Not. Touch."

Rachel let out another small sigh. It would appear that Santana was not in the most malleable mood today, which would be just her luck.

"Schuester's Animal Centre is in desperate need of new volunteers. Mr. Schuester himself has been onsite speaking to the other staff members in order to try and muster up some new people and er, I may have told him that..." She trailed off, looking guiltily at her white socks.

"Told him what Berry?" Santana all but growled.

"I may have told him that I knew a lovely young woman who works as a bartender in Manhattan and doesn't have to be at work most days until the evening time." Rachel spoke the entire sentence in one breath and Santana would have been mildly impressed if not for the implications of the other brunette's words.

"You. Did. Not." Santana spoke very slowly and quietly, her voice almost a threatening whisper as Rachel drew back, seemingly prepared for some kind of physical attack to take place.

"If you are going to punch me please avoid my nose." She told the snarling Latina, who let out a dangerous chuckle.

"Look Berry, I am only going to say this once and once only."

Rachel shifted even further away as Santana leaned in unnervingly close to her.

"Santana fuckin' Lopez does not do charity."

* * *

><p>"I can't believe I'm actually doing this." Santana was frowning deeply as she was sat slumped in the passenger seat of Rachel's Prius. "How the fuck did you talk me into this Berry? You know what? No. No one makes Santana Lopez do charity. I'm getting the fuck out this car right now."<p>

Even though the car was still moving Santana turned to grab the handle before she began tugging on it violently. It didn't budge.

She turned to Rachel, sat calmly in the driver's seat.

"The fuck Berry?" She raised her eyebrows in an aggressive manner.

"I had the forethought to ask my father to install a child lock on the passenger's side just in case a certain someone was stupid enough to try and escape my presence by jumping out of a moving vehicle."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Santana exclaimed before turning back to the door and trying to pry it open with sheer brute force.

"I must ask you stop pulling on that handle Santana. I was thinking of jazzing it up a little when I have a moment in my busy schedule to whip out my bedazzler."

"Oh. My. God." Santana allowed her head to fall forward and bash against the window. "Why the hell did I let you talk me into this?"

"Because I promised to wait another hour before doing my vocal exercises in the morning. I also permitted you to eat non-vegan foodstuffs in my presence _and_ agreed to go out on Friday night so that you and Noah can have that guitar hero marathon he keeps going on about." Rachel was as literal as ever. "But secretly I truly believe that you are doing this because you have a good heart behind all of that mean-spirited bravado."

"Dream on Berry." Santana snorted. "And Puck's coming to play Mariokart. Guitar hero was last week."

"I really don't get your obsession with these games." Rachel commented, trundling slowly along the busy road.

"Are we nearly there yet?" Santana ignored her completely, still staring grumpily out of her window.

"I would say that our estimated time of arrival is approximately seven and a half minutes."

Santana simply shook her head in exasperation as she glanced at the speed dial on the dash.

"Jesus Christ Rachel!" She threw her hands up in total vexation. "You drive like Grandma Berry."

"Grandma Berry can't drive."

"Exactly." Santana smirked as an irritated clucking noise sounded from Rachel's throat. She knew how to get under the shorter brunette's skin just as much as Rachel seemingly inadvertently got under hers.

The rest of the journey was filled with slightly tense silence as Santana continued to lightly thump her head against the window and Rachel, in between each rhythmic thud, proceeded to make more of her chicken noises.

"We're here." Rachel broke the silence as she made a sharp right, the car's tyres bumping along the gravelly road surface of what appeared to be a small parking lot.

Santana stopped banging her head against the window long enough to look out of it, taking in a few other parked cars and a large sign that read: Schuester's Animal Centre. The signpost was, rather predictably in Santana's personal opinion, decorated with infantile drawings of kitten, puppies, ducklings and all other manner of animals that could be found in almost every animated Disney movie ever made.

"Mr. Schuester's kids designed it." Rachel told her, following Santana's gaze.

"How cute." The Latina's tone indicated that she found it anything but.

Rachel sighed but opened her door and clambered out, her smaller than average legs making the task more difficult than it should be and Santana snickered as she stumbled a little.

"Can you bring the milk?" Rachel ignored her mocking laughter.

"I don't see why they can't supply their own fucking milk." Santana rolled her eyes, whilst grabbing the handles of the cool bag by her feet.

"Santana." Rachel started sternly, reaching into the back seat for the vegan cookies she had baked that morning. "As we have previously discussed," Santana snorted at the terminology. She wouldn't call Rachel's hour long lecture complete with PowerPoint presentation on the rules of being a volunteer a discussion. "This is a place frequented by young children. Once we pass through those gates I would please implore that you keep such coarse language to an absolute minimum."

"What the fuck ever Berry." At Rachel's glare, she shrugged. "We're fucking not past the fucking gates are we?"

Rachel turned away from her, muttering under her breath. Santana was pretty sure she heard the words 'infuriating' and pig-headed' thrown in there somewhere.

"Come the fuck on then." The Latina jerked her head towards the concrete pathway that led to a set of big blue, wooden gates. "This milk is fucking heavy."

Rachel just shook her head and moved towards the pathway, strutting along as fast as her little legs would carry her. Santana didn't even bother to try and catch up. She was smart enough to recognise when Rachel was executing her patented diva storm off. After all, she'd seen it often enough in the last six months.

"We have to stop off at reception first to sign in." Rachel had come to a halt just before the gates. "Oh! And collect your name tag!" Her face lit up as though it was the most exciting thing ever.

Santana grimaced, still wondering why she'd agreed to this in the first place. She's had plenty of time to back out when filling out that stupid thirty question long application form. What was wrong with her? Was she really about to do charity? This was _so_ wrong. She _hated _charity. She had even been known to refuse to give thirty cents change to a man in a wheelchair outside Walmart that was missing every extremity. So why the hell was she here?

"Come on then!" Rachel's enthusiastic tone grated Santana's last nerve and she almost turned on her heel and dashed away. Thanks to Puck, she knew how to hotwire a car and she was sure Rachel could get a lift home from one of her do-gooder friends. Not that she cared anyway.

"Don't." A small hand wrapped around her wrist and she was suddenly looking into the stern, knowing eyes of Rachel Berry, who was standing _way_ too close for her liking.

"How many times dwarf? No. Touching. No me gusta!" Santana gesticulated wildly, throwing Rachel's hand from her in the process.

"And people call me dramatic." Rachel mumbled, almost inaudibly.

"Right. That's it!" Santana turned on the heel of her worn sneakers and began to stalk away.

"Wait!" Rachel chased after her desperately. "Santana, please, be reasonable. Just one day. Just give it a try for one day and if you absolutely loath and abhor it you can quit."

"I already loath and abhor it!" Santana mimicked Rachel's words. "Just the thought of it is making me break out in hives. And I think I can smell dog shit from here."

"It's an animal shelter Santana." Rachel replied, rubbing her forehead irritably. "Of course dog faeces will be present."

"Faeces? What are you Berry? Eighty?" Santana yelled back. "It's shit! S-H-I-T, shit!"

Santana noticed that Rachel's face had paled considerably as she looked at something over Santana's shoulder. The Latina turned around to find a stout middle aged woman clutching tightly to the hand of a small child.

"I am so sorry." Rachel murmured as the woman rushed past them, a horrified expression on her lined face. "See what you did?" She asked a snickering Santana reproachfully.

"What?" The Latina merely shrugged, faking innocence.

"Do I need to make a PowerPoint about appropriate vocabulary for the workplace?" Rachel put her hands on her hips, trying to look the picture of stern.

"Oh, hell no." Santana pushed past her and marched determinedly towards the totally uninviting gates.

'_Here goes.'_ She thought to herself. _'It's just charity. It can't be that bad. Right?'_

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><p>Thanks for reading.<p>

Like any fanfic writer, I'd love some feedback. So if you can spare a couple of minutes to tell me what you think, I'd be very grateful. If not, don't sweat it. Hope you enjoyed it regardless.


	2. Chapter 2

As Santana sat on a rickety stool by the door to the kitchen of the wooden shack that Rachel had told her was a café and examined her nails disinterestedly, Rachel rushed around like a very short, very irritating headless chicken, complete with clucking and screeching noises.

"Santana!" She squawked as the girl in question caught a flash of hideous woollen sweater pass her. "Could you please help me?"

Santana considered the blur of movement for a moment before tilting her head to the side and shrugging.

"Nope."

Rachel let out an involuntary noise of exasperation as she continued scrubbing away at a stain on one of the vile floral tablecloths.

"Can't you just give me a hand to turn the closed signs around?"

Santana considered this for second before realising that if she turned the 'Sorry, we're closed' signs, that sat in every single window of the 'café' then people might actually come in and start trying to get her to serve them.

"Definitely not." She decided, smirking a little as Rachel rubbed at her red cheeks in frustration and went back to her scrubbing.

"The place looks fine Berry." Santana made an attempt to placate the irate girl. "Well, not fine, it's a shithole, but I don't think there's anything you can do about it save for taking a bulldozer to the entire thing."

"Not helping Santana." Rachel bit out through gritted teeth.

"Fine. Jeez." Santana folded her arms across her chest after making sure her nails were suitably short. These matters were important for a lesbian after all. "Just calm yo' tits and I'll turn the freaking signs round."

"Calm my _what_?" Rachel paused her furious scrubbing, staring at Santana with a suitably appalled expression.

"Your tits Berry." Santana repeated, cocking an eyebrow as she slid from her perch. "You know, the rambunctious twins that live on your rib cage?" She eyed Rachel's chest through the baggy woollen jumper and raised the other eyebrow with a smirk. "Or, in your case, the totally not rambunctious fried eggs that live on _your _rib cage."

Rachel gasped, affronted, immediately raising her hands to her chest as Santana cackled with an evil sort of mirth.

"At least mine are real." The shorter girl shot back and Santana's face morphed into a fierce glare. Rachel took no notice. "And I'll have you know that no one has ever complained about my modest bosom. In fact, my last boyfriend had rather small hands so he liked them because they fit perfectly -."

"Ay, Dios!" Santana yelled, clamping her hands over her ears. "Please Berry. I do not want to hear about that. Ever."

"I hardly think that's fair Santana." Rachel huffed. "Not when I have to literally hear your sexual escapades at least three times a week."

"Four." Santana muttered with a proud smirk. "And yes it is fair. Know why Berry? Because I'm sexy. And you?" She eyed Rachel again, up and down with a predatory smile. "I'm pretty sure that you're the perverted fantasy of a woollen sock puppet."

Before Rachel could overcome her highly offended floundering Santana had turned on her heel and sauntered over to the window, smiling triumphantly.

* * *

><p>"I thought you said this place was popular." Santana drawled, her head lolling into her palm as she stared at the clock whose minute hand seemed to be moving backwards instead of forwards.<p>

"It usually is." Rachel hummed along to the _Funny Girl_ soundtrack that she had insisted on playing obnoxiously loudly on an old CD player in the corner of the narrow kitchen area behind the counter. Santana swore to God that if she had to hear one more second of 'My Man', she was going to stick her head into the giant urn that sat on her left hand side, filled to the brim with boiling water.

"What are you doing?" The Latina asked as Rachel began to potter around, drawing out a tray and setting about four or five cups on top of it. "Making tea for the invisible customers?"

"No." Rachel replied with a shrug as she began to fill a copper kettle with already boiled water from the urn. "While it's quiet I thought I might take some cups of tea and coffee to the other volunteers at reception and in the pet supply and charity stores."

"And leave me here?" Santana exclaimed incredulously. "Alone?" She reiterated when Rachel merely shrugged.

"There's no one even here yet, Santana." Rachel tried to soothe her but just ended up sounding inherently condescending. "You'll be fine for five minutes."

"But what if someone comes in?" Santana hissed, peering fretfully out of the steamy window.

"Then you serve them." Rachel said slowly, as though talking to an infant. "The mighty Santana Lopez isn't afraid of a couple of coffee shop customers is she?"

"Okay, one. This _shithole_ does _not _constitute a coffee shop." Santana threw her hands up, gesturing to the once whitewashed ceiling that was brown and green in patches with damp and what appeared to be some form of fungus. "And two. Santana Lopez isn't scared of _anything_. Now get out of here afores I ends you!"

"Okay." Rachel shrugged sweetly, happy to have her own way as she flounced out of the door, laden with her tray of tea and coffee. "And don't forget about the list of rules I drew up for you about proper barista etiquette." She called back.

"Bitch." Santana muttered once she had closed the door, scowling at the piece of paper on the countertop to her right that did indeed play host to a list of never ending, ridiculously detailed rules on the 'dos' and 'don'ts' of customer care.

Now that she was alone and her woollen-clad distraction had disappeared Santana spared a moment to really survey the place. For the most part, it looked clean if not sterile with neatly mopped floors and well-scrubbed tablecloths. The chairs however, upholstered in a dark blue material, appeared to be covered in some kind of animal hair causing Santana to shudder and quickly check the seat of the stool that she was perched upon, sighing in relief when she discovered it hairless.

A huge mural covered the back wall of the small eating area, displaying poorly painted and badly faded farm animals and there was a huge dresser in the corner filled with old stuffed toys that had seen better days.

'_God.'_ Santana thought to herself. _'My standards have clearly dropped. I can't believe I'm even sitting in a place like this.'_

She was broken out of her inner musings when the door opened again, bringing with it a cold gust of autumnal air. The Latina almost jumped out of her skin and cracked her head against the edge of the cabinet above her as she leapt out of her seat.

"Hello?" A soft voice called and Santana heard the sound of heavy footfalls walking past the door to the kitchen. "Rachel?"

Steeling herself to actually offer non-sexual services to another, Santana wandered over to the opening of the counter and made herself visible to her first ever customer.

"Oh, hi." The feminine voice said again as she spotted the Latina behind the counter and Santana looked up to greet her with an initially cold smile before it melted clean off of her face.

Standing before her, drumming long, feminine fingers against the edge of the countertop was a tall blonde. The hair that cascaded out from beneath her woollen hat was windswept and her pale cheeks reddened from working outside in the cold. She was clad in a patched green jacket and a hideous yellow, woollen scarf...

But, holy shit was she gorgeous.

Santana was instantly mesmerised by the dazzling million dollar smile and sparkling blue eyes.

"You're new."

Santana almost shit herself when the woman spoke but quickly jerked her head from side to side to clear it and nodded dumbly.

"Yeah." She said, wondering why the hell her tongue felt so heavy. "I just started today."

"I was wondering who they were going to get to replace Mr. Kidney." The blonde mused, bringing a finger up to tap at her chin. "He was not a good kisser."

Santana eyebrows rose of their own accord.

"Sloppy, you know?" The woman seemed to be talking more to herself than to Santana but the Latina nodded anyway. She knew a thing or two about sloppy kissers. "Anyway, I'm Brittany. It's nice to meet you Sultana."

'_Brittany…suits her...wait, Sultana? What the fuck…" _

"Oh!" She suddenly remembered the repulsive, brightly-coloured name tag attached to her shirt. "Um, it's Santana."

"Oh." Brittany squinted her stunning eyes at Santana's chest and the Latina felt herself getting a little hot under the collar at the close attention. "Oh yeah, sorry about that." Brittany bit her lip apologetically and Santana looked around for a switch to turn the heating down. "Santana. It suits you. It's really pretty."

"Er, thanks." Santana scratched awkwardly at the inside of her wrist. "Erm, what can I, er, get you?"

'_Ay Dios, what the fuck is wrong with you Lopez? Where's your game?'_ Santana berated herself as she continued to stand there like a muppet.

"One orange juice please." Brittany ordered cheerfully. "I have my own special glass that Rachel got me." She smiled proudly, tapping the top of the counter. "It's in the cabinet under here."

"Oh, okay." Santana mumbled dumbly as she opened the indicated cupboard and stooped down to peer into it. Inside, there were rows and rows of plain transparent glasses but at the front sat a glass decorated with several cartoon ducks. "It doesn't happen to be this one does it?" Santana plucked the glass from the cabinet and set it on the counter.

"Yes!" Brittany clapped happily. "How did you know?"

"Just a hunch." Santana shrugged, feeling a little calmer before looking around. "Erm, do you know where they keep the juice?"

Brittany pointed to another cabinet that housed several different, alphabetised bottles of juice and Santana bent down to retrieve it, rolling her eyes as she did so. It was so obvious that this kitchen had a bad case of Rachel Berry Syndrome.

Santana chuckled internally at her own wit before standing up and bashing the back of her head against the edge of the countertop.

"Fuckshitfuckfuckityshitfuck!" She cursed loudly, dropping the bottle of juice on the floor and clutching at the back of her throbbing head.

Suddenly remembering that she was with company and rather sexy company at that, Santana grabbed the bottle and stood up straight, rubbing her head gingerly and sending a wide-eyed Brittany what was supposed to be a charming smile but came out as more of a pained grimace.

"Are you okay?" Brittany sounded sincerely concerned.

"I'm fine." Santana's voice came out much more high-pitched than she would have liked. "Absolutely fine. Fine, fine, fine, fine, fine…"

"Er, do you need some ice?" Brittany asked as the Latina in front of her continued to chant the word 'fine' under her breath as she unscrewed the bottle cap. "My Mom says that usually helps."

"Nope. That's okay. I'm fine." Santana hummed, topping the glass up with water from the tap and setting it in front of Brittany with a patented Santana Lopez wink. "Enjoy."

"Thank you." Brittany smiled gratefully if not slightly unsurely and they fell into a strange sort of silence. "Rachel normally stops to talk to me whilst I drink my juice." The blonde explained as she continued to linger by the counter. "But she's not here…"

"She just went to give people coffee." Santana told her.

"Oh, okay." Brittany nodded. "So, do you want to talk to me?"

Santana balked at the question. Under normal circumstances, if someone asked her that question so seriously she would have said no and accompanied it with either a bitchily dismissive hand gesture or simply sauntered away, but right now she really didn't want to do either of those things.

Maybe it was the bump to the back of her head that was still throbbing painfully but before she even knew what was happening she had shrugged and nodded her head.

"Sure."

"Yay." Brittany sounded truly enthusiastic, taking a big gulp of her squash. "So, are you friends with Rachel?"

Santana snorted involuntarily.

"She's my roommate." She answered vaguely.

"That's so cool." Brittany's eyes lit up. "I still live with my parents whilst I get enough money to get my own place."

"Are you a paid employee here?" Santana asked curiously.

"Nope. I'm a volunteer like you and Rachel but I work with the cats." Brittany explained and Santana noticed the blonde's eyes light up as she said the word 'cats'. "I teach at a dance studio in New York."

"You're a dancer?" Santana couldn't help but let her eyes trail more appreciatively over Brittany's mostly covered body.

_Makes sense. _

"Yep." The blonde smiled happily. "I've been dancing since I was like three years old. What about you? Do you have a job or do you go to school like Rachel?"

"I'm a bartender." Santana told her.

"Sexy." Brittany seemed to have an aversion to any kind of internal filter. Whilst at first, it had thrown her a little, Santana actually found it kind of refreshing. A lot of the girls she had met were often deviant and had their own agendas, much like herself, but this strange blonde in front of herself didn't even seem to know the meaning of the word devious.

"Er, thanks." She shrugged, unable to find a suitable reply. "So...you like cats?"

_Really Santana? Did you really just ask that? _

Despite mentally facepalming at her question, it seemed to be exactly the one to ask the vibrant dancer.

"I love cats. I have one at home." Brittany nodded emphatically. "His name is Lord Tubbington."

"Lord Tubbington..." Santana repeated slowly, unsure if she had heard correctly.

"Yep." Apparently she had. "I used to have two cats but Charity ran away. At least I think she ran away. My Dad always used to say that Lord Tubbington ate her because he gained a bit of weight after she was gone but I think he was just comfort eating because he missed her so much."

Okay, so maybe this girl was a little strange. Santana could honestly say that if anybody else started talking to her about kitty cannibalism she would have torn them to shreds by now with her vicious, vicious words, but there was just something about Brittany that was undeniably...endearing.

Maybe it was the way her blue eyes sparkled happily or the way she gesticulated zealously with those long-fingered hands of hers but Santana just couldn't bring herself to find Brittany's enthusiasm annoying. In fact, if anything, it was contagious.

"So wait..." The Latina backtracked realising that Brittany was still speaking at a rapid rate. "Your cat ate your other cat?"

Brittany stopped talking mid-sentence and cocked her head cutely to the side, causing her woollen bobble hat to slide to a jaunty angle, before she shrugged.

"We never really found out." She said simply. "But sometimes I talk to Lord Tubbington's tummy. Just in case Charity's getting lonely in there."

Santana couldn't tell if she was being serious but took the odd comment in her stride.

"So have you worked here long?"

"I started about the same time as Rachel." Brittany pursed her lips in thought and Santana watched as her pink bottom lip disappeared beneath its twin. "My Mom thought it would be good to do something in my spare time. Will and Emma's son is in my Thursday ballet class so that's how I found out about the centre."

"Will and Emma?"

"Mr and Mrs Schuester." Brittany corrected herself. "They own the sanctuary."

Santana nodded, unsure of what to say next. Brittany didn't seem bothered by the sudden silence but tapped her foot on the floor in a rhythmic beat and dug around in her jacket pocket.

"Would you like to see a picture of Lord Tubbington?" She asked out of the blue, already tapping away at her iphone.

"Er, sure."

Brittany grinned and leant against the counter before turning the phone to face the Latina.

_Holy. Crap. _

Santana literally recoiled as a picture of the biggest cat she had ever seen, that was sitting in an equally giant flower pot, was thrust in her face.

"Wow. He's...cute."

"I know right." Brittany smiled smugly. "None of the cats here are anywhere near as big as him."

The blonde was apparently very proud of this feat so Santana stayed silent.

Brittany retracted her phone and the Latina was about to change the subject when a beeping sound broke through the air. The irritating noise was apparently being exuded from the digital sports watch on Brittany's wrist because she brought the device up to her face and furrowed her brow at it.

"Oh." She said, as though something had suddenly dawned on her. "It's time to give the cats in the isolation block their medicine." She saw Santana's confused look. "I kept forgetting to do it so my friend Quinn bought me a watch so I could remember. The only problem is, I keep forgetting which alarm is for what. Last week, I gave them medicine for their breakfast!"

Santana couldn't help but wonder how this woman was still allowed to administer life-saving medication to living creatures but shrugged it off when Brittany flashed a bright smile at her.

"I have to go, but it was really nice to meet you Santana." The blonde reached out her hand for a handshake and Santana took it in her own smaller one, marvelling at the softness of Brittany's palm and the spidery fingers that brushed against her wrist.

"It was nice to meet you too Brittany." Santana liked the way the name rolled effortlessly from her tongue.

They stood shaking hands for what would probably be considered longer than necessary before letting go.

Brittany offered her one last wave and smile before heading for the door as Santana unconsciously leaned forward over the counter and watched her go.

The blonde had been gone for less than a minute before the door opened again and Rachel made a reappearance.

"Brittany was here?" She asked immediately and Santana merely nodded.

"She's such a sweetheart." Rachel walked through the door to the kitchen and joined the other brunette behind the counter. "A little odd though. Some of the things she says are kind of...wait, you, er, weren't mean to her were you? Because Brittany's -."

"Shut up Berry." Santana frowned at her, displeased by the implication. "Just because you annoy me to hell doesn't mean everybody does."

"So you didn't say anything rude to her?" Rachel asked in disbelief, ignoring the insult.

"Like I said, I don't hate everybody." Santana shrugged.

"Yes you do." Rachel frowned, not relinquishing her argument. "Yesterday you said that you wished everybody on earth would die except for you and Scarlett Johansson."

Santana chuckled. She had forgotten about that little rant.

"Well, I changed my mind." She shrugged again, brushing past Rachel and pretending to be busy by opening the fridge and peering inside, hoping that Rachel would leave her alone.

She heard Rachel huff and start pottering around the kitchen again causing the Latina to smile triumphantly and return to her stool by the window.

Peering out through the cracked glass she caught a final glimpse of the tall blonde dancer disappearing down the path. She had shed her jacket and laid it in the wheelbarrow she was pushing along in front of her so that Santana now had the perfect view of Brittany's jean-clad ass.

She smiled to herself.

_Maybe this won't be so bad after all._

* * *

><p>Thanks for reading. Sorry for the immense wait. Totally my bad. <em><br>_


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